


Of Pitches and Pondering

by philindaisy



Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, Baseball, F/M, Post-Series, Pre-IWTB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindaisy/pseuds/philindaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An afternoon on the baseball field with Mulder, Scully, and now three-year-old William.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Pitches and Pondering

**Author's Note:**

> Just imagine a world where Scully never had to give William away because that's more fun and less painful.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my words.

There’s a bag of sports equipment off to the left by the bench, Scully’s leaning against the gate, and Mulder is crouched down on the ground with a toddler in front of him. The five minutes it should have taken to explain the concept of baseball have turned into nearly twenty, but William’s interest in every detail about the game and the park around them is worth it.

He’s at the age of “why’s” and everything is one question followed by another and so on. The questions “Why do we have to go to bed?”, “Why do you go to work and not Daddy, too?”, and his personal favorite, the word “Why?” with no additional context have ruled Scully and Mulder’s day-to-day lives for the past few months. Her mother, psychology, and all the parenting books say that it’s just a phase, one that every child goes through, but Scully often wonders if her son gets this from his father; the constant search for a truthful explanation. 

It wouldn’t be the only way that William is similar to Mulder; he’s practically a smaller version. The infant with once Scully-like coloring is now a dark haired, remotely tall for his age three-year-old with a near complete resemblance to his father, aside from his eyes and chin. Just by looking at him, it’s obvious who his parents are.

“Alright,” Mulder says, setting a plastic ball on the Little Tikes tee in front of them. He places William’s hands on the bat, attempting to position him using all of the batting stance guidelines that a three-year-old can follow. He then places his hands over William’s on the bat and helps him swing, the plastic baseball flying off of the tee and into the field.

Three more hits have William laughing up a storm, and Mulder looks up just in time to catch the smile on Scully’s face. He grins back and raises an eyebrow, “He’s good, isn’t he?”

“Again!” William shouts, running out into the field to get a ball.  Scully catches up to him and grabs at him, chasing him back to Mulder, who now stands at the pitcher’s mound. He giggles and grabs the taller man’s legs and she reaches for him, laughing herself.

“What do you say we let Mommy have a turn?” Mulder asks as he looks down at William, who unsurprisingly nods in agreement.

She sighs, giving both of the men in her life a “ _really_?” look as Mulder holds a bat out to her. He’s has a real baseball, not one of William’s plastic ones, in the other hand, waiting to pitch.

“Oh, so I don’t get to use the plastic bat and ball?” Scully jokes, taking the bat from him. He kisses her quick on the lips when he hands it off, and William giggles in the background.

Scully takes her place at home plate, just behind her son’s baseball tee and waits for the pitch. The sun is getting lower in the sky and obstructing her vision slightly, but she thinks she still has a good chance. The rest is up to Mulder, who easily and slowly releases the ball in her direction. She swings, but her aim is off and she misses by a hair.

“Hips before hands, Scully,” he smirks, a fond memory flashing between them, “Hips before hands.”

“Yeah, hits before hands, Mommy!” William shouts from off to Mulder’s right. He has a smug look on his face, complete with a raised eyebrow and both parents can’t help but laugh, completely ignoring what would have been the next pitch.

“Hips. Hips before hands, buddy,” Mulder chuckles, scooping the boy up in his arms. A look of understanding crosses his face as he bursts into a giggle; the happiness of his wide, toothy grin reaching his eyes.

Scully rolls her eyes but she’s still laughing as she takes William from Mulder, “And with that, I think it might be time to head home.”

“But Mommy-,“ William pouts, Mulder copying him.

“Has Daddy ever told you the baseball story?” she asks in attempt to distract the three-year-old.

William looks between his parents, slightly confused, and shrugs. Apparently their son’s bedtime stories, which were usually told by Mulder because “Daddy makes the best funny voices and faces”, hadn’t included the impromptu batting practice from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Well,” Scully says, slowly making her way off of the field with her son in her arms, “According to your father, it was either a very early or a very late birthday prese-“

“Wait a second,” Mulder interrupts as he shoves everything they’d brought to the park back in the bag, “You have to tell _the whole_ story.”

“I am telling _the whole_ story, Mulder.”

“What about the alie-”

“Mulder,” Scully sighs, aiming an eye roll in his direction, “Anyway, Daddy invited me to play baseball with him-“

“Why?” William asks, gazing towards his father as well.

Everyone says that their son looks like him, but Mulder knows this look, a look he would never have the ability to mimic. It’s the look of curiosity and questioning that Scully gets when she’s in a lab or when she’s reading over a case, a look in which William certainly inherited from her.

“See? This is why he has to know the rest of the story first,” Mulder replies, “My invitation doesn’t make sense without the reason I asked you to meet me that night.”

“Then _you_ get to tell him about that,” Scully laughs, passing their son to him and taking the bag.

“You wanna hear about the aliens, William?” he asks excitedly. William nods frantically, the excitement written across his face mirroring his father’s.

It’s almost movie-like, Scully notices- her partner’s tall frame just ahead of her, the lowering sun encasing him and their son. William’s chin rests on Mulder’s shoulder and his arms cling tightly around his neck. She notices her son’s untied shoelace, the way his miniscule fingers clutch his father’s jacket, and the simply tired smile on his face as he looks back at her, intently listening to what is just a piece of their story, which is just as much _his_ as it is theirs.

Maybe it’s a moment of clarity for the both of them or just a reminder of everything they had done together.

For Mulder, it’s the feel of William in his arms, the reality of this unexplainable truth that he had never imagined having. A human life exists because of Scully and himself and _well, damn_ , he thinks, _this surpasses any knowledge of the existence of anything else_. He’d felt that way since the night that Agent Reyes had led him into that old abandoned house and he’d found Scully with their newborn son in her arms. The strength of that belief remained just as strong as it had been in that moment.

For Scully, it’s the way William is smiling at her; the content realization that everything had been worth it, that all the pain and heartache, every sacrifice, had somehow led her here. Everything she fought over the years and everything she learned, every time someone had questioned her decision to follow Mulder, ended with the look on her son’s face and his interest in a world that had existed before him.

Their life would never be normal. It would never be without the existence of other worldly phenomena or conspiracies. William would never have the cliché, all American childhood. Hell, they may not make it past 2012, but they had this; baseball in the park on a Saturday and all too real bedtime stories that seemed straight out of fiction. It certainly wasn’t normal, but it was enough. More than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably horrible, I apologize. 
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/clintnats) and/or [Tumblr](http://www.clintasha.tumblr.com)! I accept prompt requests :)


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